Hit Me With Your Best Shot
by QueenErynn
Summary: A lot of Margaret's life is tied up in secrets. She just doesn't know it until an eventful night takes a turn. Mags begins to investigate making her question everyone close to her and their true intentions. Alternate Universe Thanks to Krevin for beta reading!
1. One Hell of a Birthday

"_Hit me with your best shot_

_Why don't you hit me with your best shot_

_Hit me with your best shot_

_Fire away_

_You come on with it, come on_

_You don't fight fair_

_That's okay, see if I care_

_Knock me down, it's all in vain_

_I get right back on my feet again-"_

"Ey!" Margaret yelped as her roommate popped out her ear bud, messing up her set of crunches, and her rhythm. Her roommate huffed his pouty lip. Nokadota was a tall, slender but toned young wakandan with cheekbones that could replace a deli slicer. Looking at him you wouldn't have guessed his major was physics. He gently laid down on to the yoga mat next to her. They had been friends since freshman year at Columbia. Nok grinned widely and smugly in a "you love me no matter what" kind of way.

"I know it's a sin to interrupt Pat Benatar," he began, "but I think you can skip the full set on your birthday. We have plans after all and they don't involve you and that gross sweaty ponytail."

Margaret sighed pushing herself up from the mat and snatching her water bottle from the breakfast bar, "I don't-"

Nok snapped to his feet, "Oh no Mags," his head shook reverently, "You swore on your father's medal that we would go out!"

Margaret groaned shaking out the oily tumble of honey golden hair. Nok was always the party animal, and she loathed the thought of spending a midterm study night out on the town. She had promised though, "Fine."

Her friend leapt a foot off the ground but then composed himself, "You have precisely an hour and a half until we have to be where we need to be." He glanced at her up and down, "So chop, chop!"

She liked her showers scolding. Nok told her that's why her hair was so frizzy, but it felt too relaxing. A crescendo of musical chimes sent her flying from the shower. Desperate to push the answer button on her phone. Before she could say hello…

"S dnyom rozhdeniya tebya, ss dynoym rozhdeniya tebya," a soft voice sang. He wasn't much of a singer, but it made her smile, "s dynoym rozhdeniya tebya milaya Margaret, s dnyom rozhdeniya tebya…" there was a quiet moment, "Happy birthday my darling. I'm sorry I can't be there to celebrate it with you."

"It's okay papa." Margaret replied gently sitting with her back against the wall. She wanted to ask him so dreadfully where he was, and if he was safe. The words came dry to her lips. "Nok is making sure I don't squander the day."

Her father chuckled, "Tell him I said hello, and he'll have to deal with me if you two get into trouble."

Her smile broadened, "I can't promise you won't see us on the eleven o'clock news." There was a rumbling in the background. It made her stomach jump into her throat.

"I have to go now milaya." He said hurriedly, "I love you."

She couldn't return the sentiment because the line ended. Margaret sat against the wall huddled with her knees against her chest. Her father had been a special agent all her life. When she was younger he was home more, but now that she was nearly graduating college she'd seen him less and less. It wouldn't hurt so much if when he did come home he wasn't covered in yellowing skin.

Margaret finally came out of the bathroom. Nokadota was trying not to huff and puff but it showed.

"I put an outfit on your bed that will be appropriate for the entire day. We're going to be late at this rate!" he scuttled into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

On her twin bed was a cranberry colored sweater dress and navy stockings. She was happily surprised that it wasn't the clubbing dress he'd purchased for her that had never been touched. Her phone vibrated alerting her to a text. It was from her aunt. A simple 'Happy Birthday, Love you 3'. She was probably having a busy day as well. Margaret wasn't exactly sure what her aunt did. She was around even less than her father, but would pop in quite unexpectedly.

Nok had been impatient with her. Now he was the one taking up time, but he finally walked out of his room in a grey knit sweater, brown skinny slacks, and his claw necklace he never went anywhere without. Margaret swore that if they hadn't lived together she would have gone most of college wearing paint covered sweats and hoodies. He held out his arm for her.

"Shall we Miss Ivanov?" he grinned.

The pair stepped out into the chilly October air. Manhattan at their fingertips. There was a black town car waiting for them. Margaret gave him a skeptical look. She knew he came from money, but it always made her feel off to have it be used on her.

"Don't make that face, and get in." he ushered.

She slide in to the opposite side of the car, "You best not have spent a lot or your parents are going to ring you a new one."

"Let me deal with my mama and baba, thank you." He leaned up to the driver, "Let's go, Thomas we have places to be."

Margaret ogled at their destination: Antiquarium, Ltd. Fine Ancient Arts Gallery.

"Come on then." Nok was holding the door open for her, "I have someone to introduce you to."

She was too preoccupied by the Egyptian pieces to notice Nokadota had slipped away from her. They were beautifully preserved. Margaret liked to guess where the pieces had come from before she looked at their plate. It made her feel like a detective. The rounded piece before her was obviously from a vase.

"It held a heart at one point." A silky voice pulled her from inspecting the delicate chisel.

_Speaking of chiseled_ her brain thought. A man in a black suit, clean shaven, and a tussle of sandy-blond hair stood across the display from her. Margaret glanced down at the plate to see that it had been an organ jar. Mystery over.

His eyes squinted at her, "Wait…are you…do you I mean," he rubbed his hand against his chin, "You don't happen to go to Columbia do you?"

Before she could even muster up a word Nokadota called for her.

"Mags, come over here."

"Sorry I… I uh," Margaret backed away eagerly joining her friend who was with an older gentleman short with pepper colored hair.

"Margaret Ivanov, this is my friend Khal's uncle, Mr. Peter Pavlov the owner of this fine establishment." Nok said.

Margaret stuck out her hand instantly, "It's so nice to meet you Mr. Pavlov. Your gallery is astonishing."

His cold hand shook hers back, "I can see the wonder in your eye. Nok here says you're about to graduate in spring with an art degree. Just so happens I'm looking to take on a new helper." Margaret's heart thrashed, "Nothing fancy at first but it'll get you into the gallery scene."

"I….I… would absolutely love that." She managed. Nok's grin couldn't have possibly gotten any wider.

They spent, to Nok's dismay, around three hours in the gallery and they didn't have a chance to go to the second floor. Margaret thoroughly enjoyed Mr. Pavlov. He was a kind soul who cherished each of the pieces in his collection. Each came with a story of how it came to be.

"I hate to break of the nerd talk," Nok interrupted during a story of a piece from the Ming Dynasty, "Miss Ivanov and I have another destination."

"I have taken too much time," Mr. Pavlov nodded softly. He smiled at her, "Let me know when you are free and we will start paperwork."

She shook his hand again as if she were afraid to let go and the deal would be off. Eventually she let go following Nok's impatient foot tap. Her eyes glanced for the man in the suit but he was gone.

They returned to the town car. Nok gave a breath of relief.

"Bast, I thought we would be there forever." He groaned rolling his neck.

Margaret squeezed his hand drawing his attention, "Thank you." She said.

Nok smiled, "Don't ever say I don't give the best presents."

"Wouldn't think of it." She replied as the town car pulled away.

"Did I hear your phone go off earlier?" Nok asked. The traffic on the upper west side was always abysmal.

"Yeah, my dad." She replied.

"Ah, how's the ol' man?" Nok asked offhandedly craning his neck to look at the traffic.

"Okay, I think." Margaret answered softly, "It wasn't a long conversation."

"I'd kill for a short conversation. My mama's shortest phone conversation was like twenty minutes." He nudged her shoulder noticing her forlorn expression, "I'm sure your dad's fine. He's built of some tough stuff."

Margaret nodded in reply glancing off into traffic. They hadn't moved in awhile. "Looks like something's going on at the Muse—um…." She cast a shrewd glance at her friend. "Nok…."

"Mags." He replied avoiding her eyes by leaning forward to the front seat.

"Are we in a processional for the history museum for a reason?" She asked with a bit of a snap.

"I may or may not have gotten us into a special party." Nok replied as if it were nothing.

"I'm not walking in front of cameras." She said staunchly. He had hoodwinked her into that before and she had felt absolutely embarrassed. She'd called his mother directly after. That was their longest phone conversation to date; Five hours.

There was a long silence.

"Oh alright, birthday girl." Nok sighed opening the door on his side, "Come on." He swung his arm in a pointing motion.

Margaret slide out of the car. She could see the red carpet sweeping up the stairs. Photographers lights shuttering. Her gaze even more shrewd than she thought possible. Nok shrugged. Not an apologetic twitch in his expression.

"Is there a side door?" She asked nervously.

Her friend smiled leading the way to a staircase on the side of the museum. Nokadota coughed to make the door security aware of their presence.

"Nokadota of Wakanda, I also have a guest slot."

The man nodded allowing them into the lobby. The History Museum was cast in a spectacular golden light. A large banner swept over the balcony answering her question on what the special exhibit was; Heroes of New York.

"Welcome!" one of the museum workers handed them a map, "The exhibit snakes through the entire museum. Food, Beverages and dancing are held in the main lobby. Enjoy the evening!"

Margaret gripped Nokadota's arm. She knew once she let it go he'd be lost from her. The crowd was uncountable. She was sure they were breaking some fire code. Nokadota waltz them across the crowded lobby to the bar. He leaned over to place their order. She glanced over the map. The closest exhibit to them were the 'Heroes of Manhattan' and the 'Heroes of 9 11'. Logically, that's where one should start, however, after receiving the moscatos from the bar the pair discovered that was everyone's starting point.

"Let's follow it backwards then." Margaret suggested.

"Brilliant idea." Nok spun them around guiding them seamlessly through the crowd again.

The wing they entered was draped in red, white and blue. A soft instrumental tune piped through the ceiling speakers. At the center of the room was a clear cylinder display with a mannequin dressed in an outfit every New Yorker could recognize; Captain America.

Nok gave a cursory glance to the plaque. She could see him spying a very dapper looking bachelor near their age. Mags returned her eyes to the display. She leaned on her toes having been almost tall enough to envision her face in the helmet.

"The best thing to come out of Brooklyn," a voice said behind her, "Other than the invention of the air conditioner."

Margaret's heart punched against her ribs. It was the man from the art gallery. He was smiling just slightly. It was pulling on his right cheek. He was dressed the same although his sudden appearance next to her made her stomach rustle.

"Knowledgeable about ancient Egypt and Brooklynn." She took a long sip of her wine peering across the room to locate Nok. His back was toward her. He was in full flirt mode.

"History major," his blue eyes glanced down at her. Even in the dim light they sparkled. "I was trying to ask you earlier if you went to Columbia too." His long fingers scratched the line of his jaw.

Margaret felt a small semblance of relief against her earlier paranoia but wasn't overly convinced. "Did Professor Keltmer get you tickets for the event?" she hid the quiver in her lip, the lie, into the glass.

His brows came together in confusion, "Professor Keltmer, I'm afraid I haven't had him yet." he said, "It was actually Professor Xi Chang who managed to get myself and another student tickets. Did a Professor in your department get you tickets?"

A parade of needles danced across her stomach, "Oh uh... no." she replied quickly, "I can't really see the arts department splurging on a history gala." a nervous trickle of laughter followed. She realized he might think she was of a higher society, "My friend managed to get us tickets for my birthday. He's the king of networking." Margaret managed.

The smile continued to pull at his cheek, "Well happy birthday…." he leaned over a bit.

She scrambled realizing he was waiting for her name, "Margaret."

"Margaret," he said softly, "Happy birthday." he repeated before sticking out his hand, "James." He took his hand away, "Well, I won't keep you from your friend."

Margaret glanced to where she had last seen Nokadota. His body was gone from the room. "I think someone else is keeping my friend from me." she mumbled.

He had moved away from her to the other side of the room. His neck was craning up at the piece displayed through thick glass. Margaret walked over to the piece. The plaque was made of bronze and the largest part of the inscription read "Captain America's Shield, Generously donated by the Stark Foundation". She looked up at the shield skeptically. Who in their right mind would allow this to be displayed. It was clearly asking for trouble.

"Enjoying the exhibit?" a sultry voice came from behind her. James broke apart from her as the body pushed between them. He was a tall lanky man a bit older than her. His look was formal but lazy as though he didn't have a care in the world. Neither Mags nor James replied.

"My mother donated that." he brought his fingers to his puckering lips before bringing them back out with a 'smacking' sound, "Finishing piece of the entire exhibit."

"So your-" James started his eyes a bit beset with shock.

The man stuck out a firm hand, "Anthony Morgan Stark."

Margaret blinked. He looked similar to his magazine photos but not nearly as put together. It was the eyes that made her realize this accusation was true. Anthony Stark was known to make her whole high school class swoon just by picture of his eyes; green with speckles of grey. They could be either really. She remembered her genetics teacher Ms. Kaplin spent an entire class talking about how his eyes were a genetic anomaly.

He stuck his hand out to her, "And you?" his voice was softer with her and so was his hand when she took it.

"Margaret Sarah Ivanov." She lifted up her empty cup hoping to find refuge in it from her burning cheeks. Why the hell did she say her middle name like him?

"Looks like your cups running on empty there." Anthony said with a grin that almost made her feel like those high school girls, "My father's about to give a speech in the main lobby. You could refill and give it a listen."

"That sounds-" She started.

There was a crash from the far end of the room. Margaret hoped it wasn't something from the exhibit. The doors to the wing of the museum closed and the regular museum lights snapped on along with a whirling alarm.

"That can't be good." Anthony said taking off in a run towards the sound.

James was about to say something when the window closest to them shattered. He turned shielding her from the spray of glass. Two man dressed in complete black body armor barked at them.

"Step aside!" they said.

Margaret shifted back noticing something rather odd for burglars. They didn't have guns. James brought his hands up in a surrendering motion, but his foot stepped forward. She'd taken too many self-defense courses to not know what that meant. He brought his arm back and did a quick chest jab to the man closest to him. This sent one of them stumbling but the other leaned forward placing a gloved hand on James shoulder. There was an electric sizzle and James crumbled to the ground.

The assailant met eyes with her, "Step aside."

Margaret's limbs were numb to the command. When the man's hand came upon her she flinched expecting to end up like James. The man merely shoved her to the side. She caught herself on the nearest display. He put a hand up to the glass display of the shield. It began to melt into a sizeable hole. Margaret screamed at herself to do something, but self defense lessons were lax on what to do about a armed man stealing the symbol of a great hero.

"Freeze Johnny Cash." Anthony quipped from the far end of the room. His hand was encased in a gauntlet with the palm of it radiating a particle beam that Iron Man was famous for. Margaret met his eyes. They were more grey than green now, and kept pulling to the right. She understood shifting behind the mahogany display out of harm's way. The particle beam lit up the room like a spot light. A horrible curiosity bit her. She glanced past the protection of the display. The beam had met the shield stopping it dead in its tracks.

"Get out of here. I'll hold them off!" the other assailant sprung across the room to lock Anthony in a battle. The other leapt out the window.

She lurched from the her hiding spot as if ready to chase after him. Her body stopped noticing James slowly come to with a low groan. He blinked furiously looking around before catching her in his sights, "Margaret, are you okay?"

"Me?" She held out a hand to pull him up, "Are you okay?"

"I, uh, think so?" he scratched the back of his head seeing Anthony detain the other man, "Guess I was a bit mad to do that."

"A bit." Margaret replied with a soft smile.

The doors to the wing flew open. Nokadota flanked by the NYPD entered the room. The police immediately went to the detainee. Her friend flew to her side.

"Mags! Are you okay?" His clothes were a bit disheveled and his chest gave a rapid in and exhale.

She nodded a bit perturbed he had abandoned her. Not that it was out of his character to do so, but still. He squeezed her side in relief.

"Much help you were, your highness," Anthony waltzed over to them collapsing the gauntlet into his pocket square.

"Not now Stark." Nok hissed through his teeth.

Anthony rolled his eyes long and slow before looking at Margaret, "Are you alright?" his voice softer again.

"Wait...wait." Mags pushed away from Nok, "You know each other?"

"Oh, man." Anthony put a hand over his heart feigning distress, "Your highness doesn't deem me worthy-."

"Shut. It. Stark." Nokadota snapped.

Margaret shivered. She had never heard such a harsh and serious tone from her friend before. Before it escalated the police pulled them all aside to ask what had happened. A woman officer sat her down at the nearest bench with her notepad and pen ready in her lap. She relayed the recent events as best she could, but her eyes kept flickering to Nok who was talking with another office. Their conversation finished quickly. The office dipped his head slightly and it made Margaret's stomach wring like a dish cloth.

"Alright dearie, that's all I need." the officer smiled patting her leg, "You get home and try to put this behind you."

She gave a small wave to James who was still in his interview before Nok ushered her out of the museum and into the town car.

"Take us home Thomas." Nokadota instructed.

Margaret tried to unwring her stomach. She hated confrontation but the thoughts were all piling on top of each other. Did two snarky comments warrant this much thought?

"Yes, its true." Nokadota said in almost a whisper. He had an annoying habit of being able to know what was on her mind, but even now it was obvious. He also knew she wasn't stupid. It made sense now that she thought back on it but the truth stung. They had been friends for nearly four years and he didn't feel comfortable enough to tell her who he really was? "I am Prince Nokadota second son of King T'Challa…." he folded and unfolded his hands continuously, "I didn't tell you because-." Nok groaned in frustration, "Please don't be mad Mags." he beseeched grasping for her hands.

She let him hold her hands but said nothing. The rest of the ride home was silent. Once they arrived she went straight to her room hearing Nok call out half-heartedly. To say the least she felt a bit betrayed or even foolish. She turned on the light kicking off her shoes. Her room was more of a closet, but since Nok was paying the rent….or technically his father was, she felt only right she have the smaller room. There wasn't a closet just a bar that acted as a place to hang her clothes. Margaret threw off her clothes before shuffling over to her bed. It was strange. She didn't remember leaving her throw blanket over the bed. With the day she had though did it really matter? Margaret lifted up the blanket ready to crawl into bed but every muscle in her body froze. It was red, white, and blue and had just been stolen from the museum not long ago.


	2. Pas De Deux (A Dance for Two)

**Mission Report; March 15th**

**'The Dream', left apartment on upper east side of Manhattan at precisely 0600. No sign of the shields whereabouts. The Dream began daily jog around Manhattan and returned to apartment at approximately 0655. Stopped for a bagel and chai tea along the way at Mr. Bagels. Target returned outside at 0715 with a duffel bag embroidered with initials "M.S.I". Bag not large enough to contain shield. The Dream began walk to Columbia without the Wakandan protector.**

**The Dream made way to the theater on Columbia campus to begin mid-semester exams.**

* * *

Margaret felt his hands glide down her torso. She kept her eyes out into the darkness. Her expression blank. After his hands left she pulled away in a pirouette across the stage. She felt her right foot ache to be flat against the floor. Her right hand slowly unfolded in a rebuffing motion, as he approached her, while her left gently and slowly masked her face from the audience. The music slowly crept to an end. There was a small semblance of an applause. The stage lights dropped and Margaret blinked a few times before the Professor and class came into view.

"Ah, just marvelous." Professor Sonya stood. She was a tall lanky woman with a pointed face and hair always pinned into place. Her smile was thin and it curled high into her cheeks. "Please do come down for your papers."

Margaret walked off stage left. Trevor, her dance partner, met her before they left the backstage door.

"Ah that was just marvelous!" Trevor mocked. His brow furrowed, "We were off in the last ninety seconds of the set. We're doomed."

"It's my fault." Margaret whispered to him as they entered the theatre to get their midterms. She had slid into his arms just a fraction of a moment too early, "She can't dock us that much."

Professor Sonya had already dismissed the rest of class, as they were the last duo to go. She was still smiling which had to be a good sign.

"Your original pas de deux was exceptional." Her words let Trevor give a breath of reprieve until, "Mister Davies, you neglected to motion to Miss Ivanov in the appropriate rhythm thus making her miss the following motion. You were off for the remainder of the set."

Margaret watched the scowl form and vanish on Trevor's lips. He took his paper and pointedly turned on his heel practically leaping out of the room. She was eager to catch up with him and apologize but the Professor kept her grade sheet in her talons.

"Miss Ivanov, do you have a moment?" Professor Sonya motioned the seat next to her.

She sat down angling herself towards the woman.

"I was wondering if you had any interest in auditioning for a production outside of school?" Margaret opened her mouth to reply but the Professor put her hands on top of hers. "I don't know if I mentioned to you that outside of class I have a dance company in Brooklyn. We're putting on a modern interp of Sleeping Beauty and I so desperately think you should try out. You have so much potential."

Margaret bit the inside of her lower lip. She had taken ballet because her aunt had taught her some basics. She had never thought she was worthy of trying out of a real production. Michelle Cho was a thousand leagues better than her. Even Trevor was more enthusiastic about it. "I….uh...I've never thought about it." she finally managed.

Professor Sonya squeezed her hands, "I would love to see you try out." she handed over her grade sheet with a flyer on top, "Here is the information you need. Time, location, and the practice set so you can work on it beforehand." the next class began filing into the theatre. "I do hope to see you."

"You've got to be joking!" Trevor scowled looking at the flyer, "I love you Mags, but really!" He paced before as they waited for their afternoon coffee fix. "I'm not trying to say your not good, but also like I've been working my ass off this semester. Ugh!"

"I'm not gonna go." Margaret said, half in truth and half to calm her friend down.

Trevor's pacing slammed to a halt. "Oh no!" the barista that Trevor liked called his name. He turned perfectly on point took the latte and turned back to Mags. "Your doing it."

"I'm sorry?" She said confused before grabbing her own drink when it slide across the pick up counter. "You want me to audition?"

Trevor sighed bending his back as they walked to their table outside on the patio. "Look, part of the dance community is having an ….in." he took a long slurp, "An in… being someone on the inside." she raised an eyebrow to him like 'really', "Professor Sonya has favored you all is your in."

Margaret kept her coffee to her lips letting the heat tickle across her nose. She thought back to her first semester Ballet 482. The original Professor was a short ukranian woman. Professor Bondar had critiqued her harshly. So much so that Margaret had almost dropped the class mid term last year. Trevor had kept her afloat enough to pass on to the second semester. She had been relieved to find Professor Sonya a more amiable teacher. Though… it felt horrible to say as Professor Bondar went missing over Christmas break.

Trevor gave a cough,"Nokadota heading right for us. Looks like he's on a mission."

Margaret kept her coffee at her lips. She and Nokadota hadn't truly talked since he revealed his very large secret. His approach to the table troubled her. He looked disheveled and tired.

"Mags," he said softly before glancing at Trevor, "...Trevor." he said with a bit of spite.

"Nok-Nok." Trevor smiled cheerily.

"How...how are you doing?" Nokadota asked her. His hands kept to his pocket and he tried to make the best eye contact he could.

"I'm fine," Margaret replied. She glanced at Trevor to whom she had divulged everything to and was screaming at him with her eyes no to say a word.

"I'm fine to if anyone's curious." Trevor said.

Nok clenched his long hands, "I have an astronomy final tonight so I'm headed back to take a nap. I just wanted to let you know."

"Okay, thanks." She replied shortly.

Nokadota nodded slowly before realizing there was nothing else to say, "Well I will see you at home then."

The rest of the day felt like a blur to Margaret. Her art history exam finished out the day and she stood out in the quad in a daze. Normally, Nokadota would meet her there and they would walk home together. She knew he was gone, but she still stood in her spot for a moment.

"Margaret, hey!" A voice pulled her from staring at the pavement. At first she didn't recognize him. He wore a university hoodie and jeans.

"Oh, James, hi." She replied. Her brain fizzled a bit. He looked good in a suit and in jeans.

"You heading to an exam?" He asked.

"No, I'm done for the day." She answered her eyes drifting from him. Luckily her phone buzzed and she quickly whipped it out. It was from Trevor. She had promised him to work on some basics in self defense. His sister had gotten mugged in the park and he felt rather useless from it. "I.. uh… sorry." Margaret looked up at him, "I promised a friend I'd meet him."

"No worries," he smiled, "I've got a philosophy and ethics exam to get to. Though I don't know how much longer I stand hearing the name Immanuel Kant." James chuckled slightly. He started to take off, "Well… I hope to see you later." He gave a small parting wave before jogging away from her.

Margaret met up with Trevor at the 24 hour fitness between their respective homes. Mags left the locker room. She never felt more comfortable than in workout clothes. Trevor was waiting for her over on the mats.

"Really?" she asked him. He was wearing fuschia yoga pants that were definitely going to rip and a loose fit tank top.

"I borrowed this from my roommate okay?" He said in defence.

"Alright, remind me to tease Michelle about it later." She grinned, "Let's get started."

Margaret sighed. It had hardly been an hour later. Trevor was groaning on the mat as though they had been at it for an extended period of time. He hadn't been able to connect his elbow with her face or pivot correctly during anl assault.

"That's it," he said forlorn, "I'm doomed. These mean streets are going to chew me up. There'll be nothing left."

"I think you're overreacting." Mags said her hands stationed on her hips, "Your not focusing on what I'm trying to show you."

Trevor sat himself up by a push of his hands. He bobbed and weaved looking behind her.

"What are you doing?" She asked turning.

"I'm looking for a neanderthal to prove a point." Trevor said.

Margaret sighed going to the ledge where her water bottle was. Not that she needed it. She had hardly broken a sweat. Trevor was just a lot. She picked up her phone. The background was her and her father at the art museum. He was pointing at a piece of contemporary art with a face like "is this really art though?". She wondered when he'd be home again. It had already been four months.

"Excuse me, you-wooooo!" Trevor bellowed, "Would you mind giving us a hand?"

She sighed turning back. "You've gotta be kidding me." In the span of twenty-four hours she'd seen him in a suit, street clothes, and now work out gear. Inwardly she groaned if there was something he'd look ridiculous in…nothing came to mind.

James had just stepped out of the locker room and was crossing when Trevor called him. His eyes perked, "Margaret, hey!"

Trevor's neck snapped over to her, "Excuse me? You to know each other? Widening your social circle for once Missy?" he clamored to his feet.

"Yeah," Margaret eyed him cautiously, "We met at the museum."

"Oh my! Are you the one that got well…." Trevor did a spazzing motion. Margaret sent him a scathing glance.

James chuckled embarrassed, "Ah yeah… yeah that was me."

"Your exam went quick then?" She said a bit sharply.

"About fifteen minutes. It was only three questions." He replied with a deep breath, "Hardest of my finals."

Trevor sashayed over to him. He was always a people person. In fact Margaret was sure that was the only reason they were friends because he had approached her the first day of Ballet 280.

"James, is it?" He remembered, "I would like to prove to my lovely friend Mags here that no matter how much she trains or trains someone like me that a goliath like you could just…..well." he paused, "Have his way with me."

Margaret rolled her eyes. He had to take it that extra step.

"Well… I have to say I disagree with your theory, but I'm happy to help." James answered.

Trevor grinned turning his back to James, "We're working on being taken from behind." he said in a sensual tone.

"I think it'd be more helpful to show you how your wrong first." James said, "As you said someone with training."

Her friend pouted his lip, but stepped away. Margaret set down her phone striding across the mat. She turned around glaring at Trevor as deeply as she could. He feigned as much innocence as possible. James brought his arms around her. His biceps squeezed her arms in. She pivoted to her left established a rooted position and balance. He squeezed the left side more since she made this movement. It gave her enough space to snake her right arm out and slam her elbow into his face.

"Jesus!" Trevor yelped, "You broke his nose!"

His arms released her and for a quick moment Margaret thought she had broken it. James took his hand away from his nose with a smile.

"All good." He said, "You just missed me."

Margaret stepped away for Trevor to try. She was ninety-eight percent sure she felt her elbow connect with his nose. Her phone gave out a chime and she ran to it. It was a simple text from the group text between her father, Nokadota, and herself. She had sent the picture of the shield. Nokadota had swooped into her room without a word that night and whisked it away. The text merely said, "Taken care of." She wondered how it had been taken care of. Then she recalled that Nokadota knew the Stark Family. She sat there waiting seeing her father's icon indicate he was typing….but nothing came of it.

"You know usually after Mags and I work up a sweat we reward ourselves with Chinese food." Trevor said loudly.

Margaret's hand curled viciously around her phone. Trevor was always pushing her when it came to boys. He was convinced she just needed a little nudge. She should have never divulged to him that she had never dated… never had a first kiss, but she couldn't change that now. Her hand felt a splinter. "Shit…" the glass of her phone had cracked under her fingers.

"You'd have to actually work up a sweat first." James replied in jovial tone. Trevor gave a gasp as though he was offended. "What do you say?" she realized he was addressing her, "Up for another demonstration?"

She was sure she had landed that blow. After stuffing her phone in her bag she turned determined to prove herself right.

"Why don't you try attacking him this time?" Trevor asked, "Your always saying how in your classes you can throw a dude across the room." he was a tourist poking a bear with a stick.

Margaret lunged forward grabbing his wrist and wrapping an arm around his hand. He was resistant as expected.

"Ah, judo throw?" James asked while shifting his weight but she began to pull her own weight down.

She pushed toward the mat bringing her foot up to his stomach. Successfully she launched him over her body. Trevor gave a mumble about how unrealistic that was.

"You came at him. Shouldn't it be the other way around?" her friend asked leaning on the half wall sipping his water through a straw.

Margaret jumped giving James a hand. He put his hands on her shoulders. For the next hour Trevor ran them through every possible scenario that popped into his head. She didn't realize how late it had gotten until her phone chimed. Nok was letting her know he was heading to his astronomy final. James admitted he had to get going as well finally leaving Margaret to berate her friend on their walk out of the gym.

"You are unbelievable." she said.

"Oh please," Trevor grinned, "You could use a bigger circle especially in the not gay department," he nudged her, "If you know what I mean." Margaret gave a long groan. "I'm sorry I don't want you to become a spinster!" Trevor bellowed.

"Look." Margaret stopped him, "I love you, but you have to stop trying to hook me up with guys. Especially guys that I just met under really weird circumstances."

"Your so suspicious Mags, so you ran into a few times in the past day and a half. So what?" His brown eyes narrowed, "You go to the same school. Clearly have the same interests-"

"Wearing a university hoodie and saying you have a final doesn't mean we go to the same school." She replied.

Trevor rolled his eyes, pointing at them for emphasis, "I highly doubt a random dude would stalk you like this." he took out his phone, "You said he had Professor Xi Chang, right?"

Margaret nodded, "But that's hardly-." Trevor was already dialing on his phone and he put out a finger for her to shut up. She scowled.

He popped in his head phones and poked one in her ear.

"Columbia history office, if you know the extension please dial it now." the automated voice said. Trevor tapped in a three digit extension.

"There's no way she's still-." Margaret started. Her voice slammed shut as the receiver picked up.

"Good evening this is Professor Xi Chang, how can I help you?" The voice said on the other end.

Trevor grinned the shittiest of grins, "Yes, Professor Xi Chang my name is William Meyes. I work for the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. One of your students applied for an internship this summer. James….." they both began to panic. They had no clue on his last name. "I'm so dreadfully sorry I've spilled coffee on the application paper, but he-he submitted a wonderful piece about Brooklyn."

"Oh, of course." Xi Chang said, "James Monroe."

"That's it!" Trevor said, "We're just calling as he labeled you as a reference."

"I'd be happy to give one. James is my most passionate graduate student to date." She answered, "If you need more information I'd be happy to send an email."

"No, no that won't be necessary thank you so much for your time." Trevor slammed his thumb down on the 'end' button.

"That doesn't …. how do we know its the same James?" She said rather flustered.

"Oh sweetheart…" Trevor gave a sigh, "It's called Facebook. You'd know how to look him up if you had one." he opened the app and put in the search. "There, James Monroe, twenty-four, Columbia University." he pressed the profile picture. It was certainly him. "Not a stalker just a dude who totally has the hots for you and just so happened to bump into you."

"Now your just being ridiculous." She said walking away from him, "I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

"ASK HIM OUT FOR CHINESE!" he yelled, "He's eating bao in this picture!"


	3. I want to talk

Margaret woke up the next morning from a strange dream. She couldn't remember all of it but her body trembled. A voice had called out in the darkness; _where are you moya metcha?_ Moy metcha was russian that was for sure, but the voice wasn't her father… It sounded like a woman… maybe her mother? She took out her phone and stared at a blank text to her father. Margaret couldn't remember the last time they even talked about her mother. Maybe first grade? The longer she sat there the longer the frustration began to urge her to text her father. Her thumb scraped over the crack. There was a loud clang in the kitchen that took her away. Nokadota had dropped a skillet and on his retrieval met eyes with her.

"Morning…" he said softly.

"Morning…" She replied in the same tone.

"I'm making breakfast…" Nok held up the skillet, "Want some?"

Margaret nodded taking a seat on the barstool across from the stove. Her friend began hurriedly collecting ingredients as though their friendship depended on a fabulous breakfast. "Nok…" she started. He slammed to a halt with arm full of eggs. "You haven't been honest with me about your life…" Nok nodded shamefully. "Would you…be honest with me now?"

Nok set everything down on the counter and looked at her directly. His deep sienna eyes where a glint of mischief usually played were gone. They were more like the color of earth, stable, for now. "I will do my best to answer whatever questions you have."

_Let's start with something easy_ she thought. "Are you actually a physics undergrad at Columbia?"

"I am." He said quickly. His fingers curled inward slightly.

"...Did you go to school somewhere else before Columbia?" she followed up.

"Oxford…." Nok replied. He forced his fingers outward.

"Why did you come to Columbia?" She watched his lips twitch.

"My mama and baba wanted me to." He answered, but his body had pivoted slightly away from her.

"Why did they want that?" Margaret pressed.

Nokadota gave her a long stare before taking his bracelet off and throwing it across the room. He took a long breath, "Your father asked my parents to help keep an eye on you."

"So…they made you leave one of the most renowned schools in the world to babysit me?" another question popped into her head, "Wait how do your parents even know my dad?" and another, more of a statement, "I don't need to be baby sat. That's ridiculous!"

"Nyyyyyyghhhhhhh" Nokadota stomped his foot, "It's not that you need babysitting." He squeezed the bridge of his nose letting out a deep frustration that was building within him, "Look….your dad is a high level special agent right? There are people in the world who would want to hurt him...by hurting you."

Margaret was quiet for awhile. Nokadota began to put together breakfast while she stewed. She thought about the times when her father was on missions. Her aunt would drop in even though she'd been old enough to be home alone. It never bothered her. She loved her aunt, but until now it had never struck her as odd. When her father left someone else came in; her aunt, her dad's friend that crashed on the couch Mr. Wilson, and Nokadota. Even the memory of being walked to and from the many different schools she went to seemed strange now. She watched Nokatoda move through the kitchen.

"So," Her voice froze him again, "How are you… the man whom I've seen break into tears over a spilled glass of cheap wine, supposed to protect me?"

He set down the omelet before her taking time to thoroughly wash his hands; biding his time.

"I know I may act a bit fragile," he said slowly, "but I was raised the son of King. I am a scholar, a diplomat, and a warrior." He smiled, "My brother Azari may be a better warrior than me but he's… a bit preoccupied learning how to run Wakanda."

"And you get stuck babysitting." Margaret mumbled poking her omelet letting the steam rise.

"Would I rather spend my days with a talented, beautiful, and kind friend than scramble to understand the delicate balance of Kingship." He put his hand on top of hers, "I would choose you every time."

The sentiment made her smile for a moment. She took a few bites before working herself up to ask, "Do you know anything about my mother?"

Nok's shoulders dropped a bit with a clear an honest tone, "I can't say that I do."

They took off to campus together. When they seperated for their respective classes Margaret took out her phone. Her fingers trembled against the touch screen.

_Will you be coming home anytime soon? I want to talk._

She hit send and put her phone away for class. Friday's were her short days, and she'd asked Trevor to meet her at the gym to they could practice the routine for the dance company tryouts. His rhythmic pop course didn't get out until later, but he said that he'd text her. She went to a heavy bag after doing her warm ups. She hadn't heard from her father. Was he ignoring her, or so deep on a mission it would be too dangerous to even read it? While she had taken a moment a boulder of a man squeezed between the small space before the heavy bag and her.

"Hey, I was using that." She tapped on his shoulder.

He plucked out an ear bud, "There's a treadmill open over there."

"Yeah, I don't want a treadmill. I was setting up for the heavy bag." Mags answered.

"Look," He turned to her, "This isn't going to do you any good, sweetheart, so go buy a taser or something."

"I'm done with this one, you can have it." a guy offered hoping to diffuse the tension.

Margaret thanked him and lined up a the next station. The guy took a set of jabs at the bag. In frustration she copied him. He hit harder. She mimicked him. He gave grunts with each jab. His muscles tightened with each draw back. Mags continued her sets but listening to the bastard exert himself made her want to punch a hole through the bag. Her phone buzzed and her arms dropped to reach for it.

The man scoffed, "That's right, tired already."

Her fingers left her phone tightening harshly before bringing her arm back and slamming it into the bag. She'd kept her eyes focused on him, but there was a strange sound like the shifting of sand. The man's eyes dilated, and he shifted his feet. Before Margaret could look down a gym associate was bustling over asking her to leave… permanently. The worker followed her to the locker room allowing her to get her things but not change, saying they had a zero tolerance policy for destroying equipment. She stepped out onto the street thinking how crappy their equipment must be if one good jab took it out. As she was stepping to the side to look at her phone she caught James on his way in.

"H-Hey!" She managed to grab his attention.

He stopped with the door in his hand, "Margaret, hey." he smiled, "You heading in or just leaving?"

"... I uh… just leaving. I suppose." She answered, "Permanently."

James let another guest through the door before he walked over, "Permanently?" he asked confused.

"Long story," she waved him off the subject, but he looked into the gym seeing the worker sweeping up the sand, "The gyms got some cheap equipment." she laughed lightly.

"Or you've got one hell of a punch." James answered his smile growing.

They dipped into an awkward silence. Margaret sought refuge in her phone. The text alert wasn't from her father as she had been desperately hoping, but from Trevor.

_Have to cancel, srry, chell is having a breakdown. _

There went her plans for the evening. She glanced up at James who had also sunk into his phone. She thought about Trevor's words the night before. "Would you...uh…" her voice snapped him away from the device immediately, it made her more nervous, "I mean...I don't want to mess up your routine or anything… but there's this hole in the wall chinese restaurant Trev and I usually go to not far from here-."

"I think I can spare skippin'." He answered, "And if it's chinese the answer is always yes."

* * *

_Will you be coming home anytime soon? I want to talk. - Milaya _

Every cell in his body felt frozen. He was sure he could feel his heart break off and fall into the bowels of his stomach. His daughter never texted like that so formal and so direct. He took slow steady breaths until he could feel his heart again. He couldn't reply to it now anyway. The thought would have to be set aside.

"What's the word Sam?" he asked. His sniper scope could only see so much.

"Looks like twenty armed hostiles." Falcon's voice came over the radio, "The rest are merely warehouse workers."

"Alright let's get in, take out the hostiles and pin where the shipments comin' in from." He said.

"I'll drop in from the roof. Let me know when your in." Sam replied.

It was 1 am. No stars. No Moon. He slid down the hill ducking behind the dumpster as a patrol pair came around. As he waited for them to pass his daughter's voice clear as day trickled through his ear; _why did you lie to me? _He shivered.

"Barnes," Sam's voice snapped, "What the hell is taking you so long?"

He didn't answer. Finally the patrol turned their backs to him and he sent a stun patch to each of their backs. He ran to catch each of the heavy weights before they clattered to the ground attracting attention. Bucky swept up their weapons snapping them in half.

"See you inside in three." he relayed. The door flew open. Two to his right, three straight, one to his left. Sam's crash through the ceiling distracted them. He lunged for the two to his right disarming and then bringing their heads together. From his hip came a stick grenade for the three straight. It pulled them into a huddle unable to aim. Sam dropped down before him sending a bullet to the one he'd forgotten to his left.

"What's your problem today?" he asked pinging red wing to send out a rain of stun pellets.

Bucky sent a shot across the warehouse to the leg of a target running away, "I don't know what your talking about."

They finished up rounding up the assailants. The workers had huddled under cover cowering. Bucky didn't blame them. Sam sat to talk with one of the more willing ones. He turned his back to him taking out his phone.

_Home soon, you okay?_

Sam coughed for his attention. He slipped his phone back as Sam walked over.

"They're from brazil. Said they were scooped up on the promise of green cards. Worked em night and day. They said the latest shipment is out on the pad."

"I bet there's a manifest with it." he said as they began over to the shipping section.

"You'd think black market weapons would be lax on their paperwork." Sam said with a light chuckle.

His phone vibrated and he couldn't resist to check it.

_Shield in safe hands- Son of Satan _

"That Mags?" Sam asked prying.

"No it's Anthony." Bucky sighed as they reached the pad. He handed Sam the paper on top of one of the boxes before ripping open the lid.

"You still worried about Caps-." Sam's sentence ended.

"What the hell…" Bucky ran a hand through the packing material. His hand brought up an almost weightless ensemble. It was red, white and blue.

"Some kind of new armor?" Sam asked.

Bucky held up the garment sending a bullet through it, "I highly doubt that."

They worked through the rest of the shipment finding outdated or low grade weapons. Bucky picked up a colt government issue single action pistol. It took him back to the second world war.

"We're shipping out." Sam said, "Taking these folks to see Maria back at base. Local laws gonna wrap up these goons."

Bucky looked down at his phone. She hadn't answered. She always answers.

"I need you to drop me off in Manhattan."

He knocked for what felt like an eternity. Was no one home? A panic set in. She didn't have class, and wasn't in the usual places of her routine; the gym, the coffee shop on campus, or the theatre. Brick scraped under his palm until he came to the loose brick. The spare key clinked against his hand. The apartment was dark save for the dim living room lamp that he'd seen from the street window.

"Milaya!" he called in a panic. Maybe she was listening to her headphones. She did always listen to them at a deafening volume. He strode over to the door in large lunges. He knocked, "Margaret, sweetheart?" he couldn't wait. It opened to reveal no one in the room. He tore through his scalp with his nails. He brought about his wrist flicking a bead to the middle of his palm.

"T'Challa, where the hell is your son!" his growl brought forth an image, but not of the King of Wakanda. His wife, Ororo, stared up at him rather annoyed for a hologram. "Storm, I don't have time for this. Why isn't your son-!"

"Wolf…," She snapped bitterly, "Your daughter is a grown woman. My son, is a grown man. They are probably out. Grocery shopping, or to dinner, or my son dragged her to a club."

He could hear a groggy voice in the background, "T'Challa!"

Ororo sighed and the hologram shifted from her to the King. He was wiping the deep sleep circles from his eyes. "Barnes... what's going on?"

"Your son isn't answering my calls. I can't find my daughter anywhere." His words felt heavy against his lungs. It was hard to breath.

T'Challa took a moment mumbling off handedly that he should have let Shuri implant a tracker in his son, "I don't think there's too much to worry about at the moment."

Bucky blinked trying to control the anger rising to his face, "...seventy-two hours ago someone broke into the National History Museum, stole a weapon made of vibranium, and put it in my daughter's room." his lips quivered. It couldn't be held in any longer, "HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT NOT WARRANT WORRY?"

"Alright...alright." T'Challa said calmly, "I'll get the jet and be over to New York."

Then his right pant pocket vibrated. He shifted it out with his left hand desperately hoping it was his little girl. It was from Natasha-

Found her- N

"Thank Christ," He breathed. His relief didn't last for long. She sent along a photo. Bucky squinted it was low quality. Across the busy street in the window of a chinese restaurant sat his daughter….opposite of a boy. The phone crumbled in his hand. "Shit…."

T'Challa sighed, "I think Shuri's going to get tired of replacing those."

He could hear Ororo in the background, "He found her can we please for the love of all things holy go back to bed now!"

T'Challa looked up at him with a questioning brow. He flicked the bead back on to his wrist without a word. Bucky's body vibrated. He was angry at himself for breaking the phone. He could have located the restaurant with ease. At least Nat was watching over her. There was nothing to do but wait until she got home.

* * *

Margaret had been nervous after her initial invitation, but James kept the conversation steady as they ate huddled in the high top table flush against the restaurant's window. She'd texted Nok that she would home late when she'd originally planned to be practicing. He'd mentioned something in reply of being busy. She had just finished explaining that her father moved them around a lot, but played it off as his company needed him to relocate every so often to solve district problems, and he was the best.

"So what about you." She asked, "Where we you born?"

"Brooklyn," he answered with a smile, "But uh… I didn't stay too long." James took a hand through his hair, "I'mma adopted." His smile didn't fade though.

"Oh…" the sympathetic breath came out of her without thought.

"Can't complain too much. My adoptive mom got me to where I am. She moved us around a lot to, so I get the wanting to feel stable somewhere. That's why I'm back home, well as close as I can get anyway."

"Is that why you're an encyclopedia on Brooklyn?" Margaret asked scooping up the last of her meal.

James chuckled, "Essentially."

It was so easy to talk to him. It felt nothing like the blind date Trevor had set her up on, or the multiple introductions Nok had attempted.

"What about your family?" He asked, "Was it just you and your dad?"

"Mostly," Margaret started to answer. Her eyes had flickered outside. She ignored the woman crossing the street dodging cars like it was nothing. "My …uh." Her eyes flickered back again. _No way…can't it be. _She came up to the window. A bright smile and eager face. Her hair was in ringlets of sandy blond now, but she could never mistake her. Margaret felt her heart slam. "Aunt."

She rushed inside squeezing in the small space between them and the other table. James blinked furiously as she spoke to Margaret in Russian after a kiss on the cheek; "Who is this hunk of smolder?" Margaret's face burned but before she could reply in any language.

"Uh…" James large frame shifted from his seat. He stuck out his hand, "I'm James…." He paused, "Margaret's…. friend."

Her Aunt smiled taking his hand in a harsh squeeze, "Natasha Ivanov. I don't mean to intrude on your…." She took a moment, "dinner, but I was passing by—"

"I didn't know you were in town." Margaret said.

"I just got in. I texted you but you didn't answer." She replied.

Margaret reached down for her bag shuffling through to find her phone, "Oh… it's dead." She frowned. She never let it die, and the last time she looked at it, it was nearly half charged. She would have Nok take a look at it later.

"Well that would be why then." Her aunt seemed to sigh in relief, "Your father has been texting you like mad. I'm pretty sure he's home."

"He is!" Margaret jumped from her seat starting to inch out of the space. She stopped glancing at James, "I …uh… sorry."

"Don't be." He smiled, "I'll see you on campus." He glanced at her Aunt, "Nice to meet you."

Her feet hit the pavement and at first she started to fast walk. It was only when she got to her block that she realized she had left her Aunt behind in a run. She was at the apartment door in a heartbeat. Her hand shook putting the key in the lock, but the door was open.

"Papa…." She breathed with a smile.

He had a smile back for her though it was small and had almost a glint of sadness, "Hello milaya."

This time he didn't have any yellowing skin or visible injuries of any kind. It made her happy. So happy.

"Oh milaya, don't cry." He strode across the living room bringing her into his arms.

She couldn't help it. The last four months came crashing down on her.


	4. Ignorance is Bliss?

**Lizaakimiko Thank you so much for my first review! I hope you continue to enjoy! **

* * *

Margaret slept well that night. Mostly, as when she woke up with a desperate need to go the bathroom she was hoping it wasn't in the middle of the night. It was. She went to her door but paused hearing a yelling whisper of her father. His voice was seething and low. 

"You have one job, Nokadota." Her father whispered, "Where were you?" 

"Stark held me up." Nok replied. 

"Boys can we move on please." Her aunt pleaded, "I've scanned the finger prints."

Margaret put her ear to the door as they shuffled. She waited there. Her body screaming to just interrupt them and sprint to the bathroom. 

"I've got nothing on this kid until he hits college." Her aunt said. 

"Are you still on that?" Nok snapped, "I'm sure you two have more important things to do than-." 

"We do." Aunt Natasha replied, "Not to take a side but … you have a responsibility." 

Nok growled. She listened to his footsteps leading up to his room and the slam of the door after him. Her father gave a long sigh. Margaret scooped down peeking an eye through the space between the door and the floor. Her father sunk into the couch next to her aunt. 

"Buck…" she said softly, "Maybe Nokadota is right. Things have….calmed down. They might be really gone this time." 

Before her father could reply her aunt's phone rang. "Really?" her voice pricked with alarm,

"We'll be right there." 

Margaret's heart leapt as she watched their feet across the floor. Her father was coming right towards her door. Luckily she was light on her feet, and scrambled into bed before he opened the door. She folded herself into the blankets, back to the door. He walked across the room. The bed dipped where he sat. 

"Milaya…." He said gently rubbing her shoulder. 

"Hmmmm…?" She tried to sound groggy and sleeping praying he couldn't feel her heartbeat. 

"I've gotta make a run upstate. I'll be back in the afternoon." He leaned down pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We'll make pelmeni for supper, okay?" 

"Mmmkay, papa." Margaret replied. 

He left leaving the door ajar.

* * *

Status Update

The White Wolf and the Falcon have discovered the last warehouse on schedule. Project Reboot is on track.

Moving on to next phase.

Mission Report, March 17

0430 the Dream climbed on to the fire escape and on to the roof. A makeshift ballet practice ensued until 0530. Target's routine jog followed…

* * *

She took a large breath leaning over outside of Mr. Bagels. The run had numbed her quelling anxieties for the moment. She made her usual order, but instead of taking it home she sat down. Which surprised the barista Zoey who knew her to take her stuff and go. The bagel shop chairs were highly uncomfortable, but Margaret didn't want to go home yet. She took her phone out of its safe pouch which lateched to her bicep. A lot went through her. How did my aunt get James finger prints? Where they even talking about James? They had to of been. But why were they? Captain America's shield plagued the back of her mind.

"Large americano for….A….A...Anthony." Zoey stammered.

Margaret's eyes flickered to Zoey who was standing at the pick up counter. Normally she slid it there and went on to the next customer. She ignored it swiping to her russian dictionary as another thought came to her mind; moya metcha. There was a long scraping sound. Metal against tile. It brought her to look up once more. Anthony Fucking Stark. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked with americano in hand, chair already pulled away from the table. Everyone in line was staring at him.

"Sure." she said. He slumped into the chair taking a long drink. Margaret put her phone aside. "No offense, but uh…"

"What is a billionaire, heir to the largest company in America, and full time super hero doing at a Mr. Bagels?" he interrupted.

"Uh no… I was gonna ask why your up so early." She replied honestly.

He slurped loudly before answering quickly, "To get away from my old man."

"Oh.." she was a bit shocked at the 'matter-of-factness' in his voice.

"What about you?" he leaned in resting his elbow on the table. His eyes were more green now then when she'd last seen them…

"Finishing the morning jog." Margaret answered.

Anthony nodded. They sat in a quiet only disrupted by the hiss of the espresso machine and the shuffle of tired feet until, "Let me ask you a question Mags." she flinched a bit at the use of her nickname from a ...mostly stranger, "If I can?"

"I don't know, can you?" she bit down on her coffee cup. What a stupid thing to say.

"I was not expecting the sass of a ninth grade english teacher." He admitted with a smile. The smile relaxed her a bit. "May I ask you a question?"

"I dunno my morning limit is usually two." She spun her nearly empty cup, "But I think I'll allow it."

Anthony's smile quivered a bit turning into a grin, "Do you believe people like being ignorant?" 

She stared at him feeling every muscle clench in a cascade down her body. "You know the old saying, ignorance is bliss." He was watching her intently. Her eyes trickled nervously. He wasn't clean shaven like the night at the museum. There was a bit of a shadow edging out his jaw. 

"Do you really believe that though?" Anthony asked.

A tickle went up her throat, "Sometimes…" she said quietly, "...would I rather think my father really was a traveling businessman who hops around the country... the world? I've asked myself that a lot growing up."

"Did you ever come up with an answer?" He leaned into the table more as though she were whispering.

Margaret shrugged "I'm not su-." A blaring alarm cut her off. Zoey sent a scolding cup of coffee into the air. Groggy customers got a non-caffeinated awakening. Anthony gave out a deep sigh reaching into his pocket. He brought the skinny phone up to his ear making the alarm stop.

"Yeah." He said sharply. His eyes avoided her now. "Uhuh…." She watched his face muscles pulsate. "Mhmm," there was a long pause, "Already there." He brought down the phone finally bringing his eyes back to her. His mouth twisted in an unspoken 'I gotta go' manner. Anthony stood snatching her phone off the table swiping and tapping before putting it back down. He paused at the door, "If do ever find an answer to that question… let me know."

Margaret sat there for awhile picking apart her bagel ignoring the people who were whispering to each other about how a celebrity had just breezed by them. She jumped at bit at her phone which sent out it's generic ringtone. It wasn't her father's new number. 

"Hello?" she answered. 

A soft voice stammered on the other end, "Miss… Miss Ivanov?" 

"This is she." Margaret replied. 

"Ah, vonderful!" The voice changed, "It is Mr. Pavel… of-." 

"Oh! Mr. Pavel, yes!" Margaret had begun to worry when she hadn't heard from him. She had emailed him all her available times. 

"Vould you...would you be able to come in this morning?" He asked, "Just for the paper work and go over your responsibilities?" 

"I would love that." She answered shifting to pick up her things and throw away her garbage, "I can be right there." 

"G….Good, will see you then!" He said. The line disconnected. 

She entered the gallery her heart racing. The run from the bagel shop had been a long one but more than anything it was the excitement coursing through her. That excitement was beaten to a halt as Mr. Pavel rounded the corner. He was hunched over a cane with an arm in a sling, but he smiled for her. 

"Mr. Pavel, what happened?" she asked as they sat at his desk, paperwork perfectly filled and filed. 

"O..oh.. Miss Margaret I am an old man. I took a tumble the other day coming down from the storage room." He peppered up a smile for her, "No need to worry. I'll be fit as my fiddle soon." 

She stayed him from getting up as he struggled. "You can just tell me, and we can go over things more when your better." the old man nodded resigning to his chair. 

"V...Wednesdays are shipping days. Things go out, things come in. Can you lift at least fifty pounds?" He asked. 

"I can lift more than that if you like." She replied with a smile. 

His smile trembled a bit, "Good. Fridays and Saturdays are our spotlight days. We'll focus a time in history, an artist, or a piece in particular." 

Her phone sent out a tinkling chime, but she continued to listen to Mr. Pavel despite her desperate urge to look at it. She urged him that he did not need to walk her out, but he insisted. 

"You be careful Miss Margaret…" he said quietly, "...these streets are dangerous." 

Before she could reply he was wobbling back into the gallerys depths. Eagerly she grabbed for her phone. 

Sunday lunch, promise- Papa 

Sunday came and went along with an excuse from her father. Nok tried to raise her spirits with a hallmark movie marathon. She got up after the second movie and when to her room. Her phone buzzed against her arm in the middle of her crunches. Bitterly she continued with the set. If it was her dad he deserved a bit of silence. 

Are you busy tomorrow?- Unknown

Sorry, who is this?- Mags

James from Columbia.

She had forgotten that he had given her his number when they went for Chinese, and added him to contacts.

I have morning classes, y?- Mags

They reopened the Hero exhibit to the public. Wondered if you'd like to go? - James

Margaret sat there for a moment. She had a charcoal assignment due that next day that she hadn't gotten any inspiration for. Her phone pinged again.

I'm working on a paper … No worries if you can't go- James

Nah I'm in - Mags

Great see you then- James

When she slept that night she dreamt of a woman. Just the form of her, an outline really, whispering. Margaret couldn't remember the whispers but they made her feel warm and safe, yet nauseous at the same time. There was a knock on her door. 

"Mags… can I come in?" Nok asked. 

She was surprised he was up at this hour, "Yeah, I'm decent."

He brought in the bright light of the living room with him. Nokadota looked like he had been up all night, "Been working on a….project." he rubbed his eyes as he came over to the bed. Nok sat down with his left hand in a fist. "Call it a late birthday present...I wasn't sure if I was going to-... Get it finished." he said softly opening his hand. Laying on his palm was a shining star necklace. "It is… like my claw." he whispered touching his own necklace, "If you are ever in trouble give it a good squeeze and… help will be on the way." 

It was lighter in her hand than it looked. She looked up at his weary expression, "So your giving me life alert?" she couldn't help the grin and neither could he. 

"I do always call you an old soul," Nok chuckled.

He hugged her long and hard, "Well I guess I better get some sleep before class."

"G'night," she called. 

"Remember, only when you need help." he said lazily leaving her room. 

"Wouldn't want you coming over a tumble in the kitchen!" She yelled. 

"GO ON YOUR JOG OLD WOMAN!" Nok yelled in return.

Margaret walked into her 'Defining Arts' class a nervous tumble in her stomach.

See you soon- James 

She twirled her necklace. Careful not to press on it too hard. Margaret knew it was another way to keep an eye on her. His responsibility, but maybe this would make him feel a bit more at ease than he had been the past couple of days. Maybe it would even allow her some breathing room.

"Miss Ivanov." the Professor called, "What do you think of this piece?" 

Margaret felt a bit targeted as the Professor kept calling on her the remainder of class.

* * *

Anthony sat back. He found it often the best course when the adults were up in arms. Barnes was utterly convinced that the warehouses he and Wilson had been busting up were connected. Anthony's father, thought he was grasping at straws. He watched his father's image crackle and sway as Barnes stomped about the room. He wondered if Margaret had his temper. After his encounter with her this morning he didn't think so. Anthony pawed through the warehouse logs. Each log had a bolded letters at the top of the shipping manifest. 

"Hydra is gone Barnes." Tony snapped, "You and I spent more than a decade making sure they were burned to ash." 

Barnes stopped mid-stride, "Tony…" he breathed, "if Steve were here you'd believe him." 

There was a tense silence. Anytime Captain America was brought up there was sure to be a long row. Anthony plucked each of the bolded letters and put them up in the air. Nineteen letters in total. His dad's rational programming had been slipping lately. 

"Well, Cap… isn't here." Tony said airly, "And-." 

"Barnes is right dad." Anthony said.

"Damn…" Wilson whispered in the background.

Anthony called their attention to the letter's he had plucked and rearranged from the manifests. He had arranged them in the order in which they had been busted.

The message read;  
"Hello Sergeant Barnes".

"We've got work to do." Barnes said in a triumphant gloom.


End file.
